Hands up if you love Ginny Weasley
by TheGreenEyedIdiot
Summary: Three reasons why Ginny Weasley wears sunglasses. Warnings: SLASHY SLAHY, FEM-SLASH, and a bisexual Ginny with a slight smoking problem. Don't like it, don't read it, you fools. Rating subject to change for possible future lemons. Disregards DH.


**Disclaimer: Come on, I mean, just... really? **

So here she was.

It wasn't exactly difficult to see how she'd got her reputation, and honestly, she didn't care.

It was just what happened when you weren't particuarly picky about who got into your bed and you smoked a bit more than was healthy.

Ok, a lot more.

But since when has any amount of smoking been healthy?

The smell of the river and the flowers and cigarette smoke, the feel of hot sun on her face and neck, and the remnant crumbs of tobacco on her fingers.

She preffered roll-ups. More personal, she'd always said.

Her coppery hair flashed like fire in the sunlight, and her sunglasses glinted.

She'd taken to sunglasses that summer. She found it easier that way.

"Gin?"

And there was the reason why. She smiled ruefully and took a long drag.

One of them, anyway.

Yes, there was more than one reason. Three, to be precise.

And they were all locked in a complex net of bloody complications and moral difficulties.

So why the hell couldn't she just shag them and get it over with?

Bushy brown hair interrupted her musings.

"Hi, Hermione."

"Hey Ginny,"

_Oh fuck,_

It happened every time. She wished there was some way of preventing her from saying her name, but that didn't seem likely.

"Your mum was wondering where you were. You coming back, or shall I just tell her your asleep or something? It's viable, you know. With those sunglasses."

"Nah, she's noticed the smoke by now. I'll come in."

Stubbing her roll-up out under the toe of her pointed boot, Ginny Weasley brushed off her grey vest-top and green shorts and followed Hermione into the house.

_Nice arse._

That girl is gonna be the death of me, I swear.

Shaking her head slightly, she made her way past her mother directly into the path of Reason Number 2.

"Alright Gin?"

Shaggy black hair that belied his age framed the chiseled features, and the body... well, it defied discription.

"Sirius," she nodded.

"Mmm. You smell nice. Been on the cigs again, Ginevra?" Mock-scolding, damn he sounded sexy when he did that.

"You have to ask? I'm gonna be broke by the time I'm 30 at this rate."

He grinned at her.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck_

"You know you're always welcome to my cash - or, as I like to think of it, 'Ginny Weasley's Cigarette Fund'."

"Cheers, mate. You know I'll always rely on you to feed my addictions." She tipped him a wink.

"Only the illegal ones, I hope."

Ha.

She left before she could say something stupid like; 'All of them, sweetie. Fancy a quickie?'

No.

That wouldn't be productive.

"Still wearing your glasses Gin?"

Thank god, sanity.

Charlie.

"Yeah. You know me; stubborn little bugger at the best of times."

"You got that right."

"Oi, Charlie!"

"Coming, Ronald. See ya, Gin."

"Mmmhmm."

And there, in that armchair, ladies and gentlemen, is Reason Number 3.

Black hair, green eyes, glasses and a cheeky grin?

It's just way too cliche, isn't it?

Harry Potter.

Fan-bloody-tastic.

"Hi Ginny."

Ginny. _Ginny._

Why should it make a difference if they say your name?

It shouldn't.

That's the bloody problem.

"Hey Harry. What's up?"

The problem with Harry was that he was a... commitment kind of guy.

And Ginny... wasn't.

Sirius: No probs. Too old for a real relationship with her, and he knew it. A fuck here and there... what's the difference?

Hermione: Alledgedly straight female. She didn't know why she did it, she just did. She wasn't worried about getting into anything, she was with Ron. Ginny was her... irresponsible side-job.

But Harry was Harry.

Far too noble for his own good.

So if they shagged, he'd probably ask her to marry him the next day.

Which only made her want him more.

The bastard.

"Nothing much. You seen Ron about?"

"He was yelling at Charlie earlier. Dunno why. Try the kitchen."

"Thanks. See ya later."

Yeah.

See you later.

When Sirius said it it had a meaning.

When Harry said it... it could mean anything.

* * *

"Hey 'Mione,"

"Gin."

She nodded at the red-head, and continued with her packing.

_Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it._

_Please do it, please do it, please do it._

She could never, never make up her mind.

She felt Ginny behind her, and turned.

She hadn't been expecting her to be quite so close.

"'Mione..." She smiled.

That smile.

She was going to do it.

_No, no, no, no_

_Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou_

And then her hands were everywhere, and her mouth was on hers, and it was messy and clumsy and more crashing of lips than actual kissing, but it was raw and she needed it, more than anything. She needed to feel alive, feel touched.

And she certainly was being touched.

Afterwards the brunette lay on her side, curled with her back to the other girl.

She felt Ginny rise and come over to her side of the bed.

"Until next time. Sweet dreams." She murmured.

And that was it.

She left with a lingering kiss and a tender stroke of her cheek.

Why did she let this happen every time?

Why?

She kept saying yes, kissing back, touching back.

She meant no, but she said yes. Her body said yes.

She never made decisions based on feeling, it wasn't _her._ It wasn't _Hermione._

But Ginny was clearing another way, a new world of possibilities.

And lying there, satisfied and loathing herself for it, she came a conclusion.

She hated Ginny Weasley, yes.

But she loved her as well.

* * *

"Sirius"

She murmured it into the darkness. His answer was husky and seductive.

"I'm over here, Gin."

She made her way over to him and her red hair fell around their faces, blocking them from the view of anyone who might have been watching.

_She's a kid._

And then her lips were on his.

_Ahh, no she isn't._

He had this argument with herself every night, but she was a bloody woman and if the tightening in his trousers didn't prove it then nothing would.

Afterwards they lay in each others arms, him waiting for her to leave, and her waiting 'til she could be bothered to leave.

"Gin..." He began, whispering into her ear.

Her que to leave.

Deep conversations weren't exactly her forte.

"Bye Sirius. Until next time. Goodnight."

And she was gone, with a lingering kiss and a tender stroke of his cheek.

Why did he let her do it?

She was a child, really.

In comparison to him, anyway.

The memory of her forced him to aquience.

Ok, she wasn't a child.

But she was too young, and he hated her for what she did to him.

She had forced him to abandon deep-set morals for the occasional fuck, and it didn't matter how incredible she was in the sack, all that mattered was that when she was kissing him, touching him, it was like his mind went out the window.

She wasn't Ginny Weasley, daughter of his best friends or ex-girlfriend of his Godson, she was Ginny Weasley, the woman in her own right.

Not just someone's daughter, someone's sister, someone's girlfriend.

Ginny Weasley, who smoked to much, partied too much and was the best lay he'd ever had. Ginny Weasley who knew exactly what she wanted, and what she wanted was a no-strings-attached object. Someone great in bed and gorgeous to look at.

And if she could get that she'd settle for the next best thing - a train of one-nighters who she left in the morning, heartbroken and confused and sure of only one thing: That they loved Ginny Weasley.

Because Sirius had come to a conclusion:

He hated Ginny Weasley, yes.

But he loved her as well.

* * *

Harry was different.

It wasn't just that he would never shag her as a one-off, it was the fact that she didn't feel particuarly comfortable being with him in her brother's room.

Especially when said brother was snoring on the opposite bed.

So she would meet him under the porch late at night, her clutching a mug of coffee in a short dressing gown, him nervous and boyish in his pyjama bottoms and bare chest.

They wouldn't talk, Ginny would seduce him, and Harry would sit still as a statue, as though if he moved it would break the delicate web of mindless willingness that Ginny spun around them nightly, deftly as the most skilled of spiders.

Because that was what she was to him.

A delicate, deadly spider.

She would steal kisses and touches gently and unexpectedly, keeping Harry on his toes, never allowing him to take them in return.

Her soft fingers found the weakest parts of him and manipulated them and removed them from his control, and her soft kisses brought him closer to the edge than he had known you could go.

He never moved more than his mouth in speech, because he knew the moment he did she would leap back like a startled gazelle and bid him her customary farewell.

But even in his unmoving ecstacy she would leave him.

She had to.

And she would stand to leave him with a lingering kiss and the tender stroke of his cheek that had always made him feel so special, so cared for.

And then she would be gone, no more than a whispered, "Until next time, Harry. Sweet dreams." to sustain him until the next night.

And he hated it.

He hated how she tortured him, and he hated how he had to let her.

Because if he didnt she would leave, and that would be infinitely worse.

The slow kisses and sensually arousing touches that drove him mad with desire, and then that sudden coldness and fading lust that she caused in her absence.

He had grown to hate the sound of her voice, because it signalled her imminent departure and the loss of everything he wanted and needed.

Because he did need her.

Because he hated Ginny Weasley, yes.

But he loved her as well.

**A/N: So, what do you think?**

**I might carry on, I might leave it as a one-shot. Depends on how I feel.**

**I personally like this version of Ginny... she's my consequence of Harry breaking her heart. In my mind she becomes very cynical and jaded, and then eventually becomes this er... thing.**

**Y'know, the slutty-yet-respected-party-animal-addict-bisexual, who just wants good sex and cigarettes and doesn't care how many hearts she has to break to get them.**

**Methinks she is pretty damn cool.**

**Not entirely sure what will happen if I carry this on. **

**Terrible things, probably.**

**We shall see.**

**R&R,**

**TheGreenEyedIdiot xx**


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